You Are Happy Even If You Are

It’s As Simple As That. Simple And Complicated, As Most True Things Are.

Things Are Not Magical Because They've Been Conjured For Us By Some Outside Force. They Are Magical Because We Create Them.

"i Want You To Spend The Night," You Said. And It Was Definitely Your Phrasing That Ensured It. If You Had Said, "let's Have Sex," Or "let's Go To My Place," Or Even "i Really Want You," I'm Not Sure We Would Have Gone Quite As Far As We Did. But I Loved The Notion That The Night Was Mine To Spend, And I Immediately Decided To Spend It With You.

Sometimes The Space Between Knowing What To Do And Actually Doing It Is A Very Short Walk. Other Times It Is An Impossible Expanse.

The World Is Quieter Now. It Is Never Quiet, But It Can Get Quieter. What Strange Creatures We Are, To Find Silence Peaceful, When Permanent Silence Is The Thing We Most Dread. Nighttime Is Not That. Nighttime Still Rustles, Still Creaks And Whispers And Trembles In Its Throat. It Is Not Darkness We Fear, But Our Own Helplessness Within It. How Merciful To Have Been Granted The Other Senses.